My-Diss-Ability:
Baby, Pick on Me.
All of a sudden, Kaela heard chanting in her chamber, and
they weren’t good at it. I’m the bad guy,
she told herself. What kind of greedy freak would employ her. She’d been in this tomb for five thousand years,
which was totally not her fault.
People came far and wide to seek her strong
ability of foresight. In fact, she’d been
a priestess, but people like to think they should hang around the chick who
dates the god of death or Seth. Common sense, people. She’d forgotten where they put him. His power
flooded through hers regardless, words licking her blood and make her hunger
the poor, foolish souls that she would fry faster than you can put Osiris back
to life.
She
shoved open the coffin, ready to see anything. When you’re evil, you’ve seen a
lot, and all it does is make you want to crawl out of society faster and gaze
carefully. That’s what Kaela did in
life.
“Hello,
my name is Elon Musk” said a man next to the sarcophagus
She’d since crawled up to the edge, in burial clothing
and ancient oils. She didn’t know how he
could stand the stench.
“What
do you want, mortal!” Kaela demanded.
“I
want to rule the world. I want to be the smartest man.”
Nothing
original strayed from that one.
“Indeed,
and why should I give you the sweet juices of my slaves and servants?”
“I
will use them to build paradise for all people in the world,” Musk said.
“Ha,
a wannabe king who can’t even make his own money,” Kaela, the evil one,
laughed. How will you feed them? Am I responsible for that as well?”
“I
can make humanity great again. I have a vision
like no one else – and a heart.” Kaela shook her head.
“Ah,
so you’ve been trading for poppies and getting visions from caves, beautiful poisons
of emotional nonsense, I see. This all makes sense now. Go find some poppies and your days will be peaceful
without an army or an attempt to rule just yourself is what all his it is. Your
father.
Do not seek to own the world. Seek to own yourself.
Beer and Buzz
Ernie followed
Megan to the end of the hall. Distracted
by friends shouting at her and constantly talking on her cellphone, she couldn’t
see him or hear him. He couldn’t touch her like a painting in a museum. If he
did, he’d end up in detention—and be lost forever.
Megan’s long
blonde hair reminded Ernie of fields of wheat, and her eyes showed clarity of
the mind and body. Unlike the way they
portrayed the “it” girl in the movie as a vapid enemy, she upheld the qualities
of character and scholarship.
This was not true
of Ernie. He went to special ed classes,
always darting in there so that the other kids wouldn’t notice him much. Even the kids that did, these baby adults chose
to keep their minds as silent as his tongue when they saw him.
“Hey, Ernie,” a
boy named Matt said as he slid into his chair, fat squished and squeezing in
the too little chair. “You should see this
drawing.”
“Woe, she has tits
and everything…” Both boys stared at the picture of the girl with her legs spread,
lightning bolts all around her, an obvious goddess. She looked like Matilda from
home economics.
Rusty threw his bag
toward the teacher’s desk and sat down backwards.
“Is this considered
child pornography?” Rusty laughed.
“Aw, we’re just curious,
teenage boys in the retard class. It’s
not like we have our lives ahead of us,” Matt said.
“So you’re going to
look at child pornography as an okay thing?” Rusty asked.
“It’s age appropriate.
After all, we have to know the birds and the bees. People have painted and
drawn naked women forever. I’m making art,” Matt said.
“Oh, look at us,
we have taste,” Ernie said.
“All I have is
beer with me. Mrs. Moth will be here soon, and we’ll color the numbers,
pretending like we’re receiving an education,” Matt said.
“Dad said we’re
going to get our asses kicked in life. So we should shape up,” Ernie said.
“I think I’ll
take the SSI and play video games all day. I don’t want to be part of the system.”
Rusty scratched an old, grey mole
“Futures are the reflections in the mirror,” Matt
said.
“Rusty, what are
you going to grow up to be? After all, shoot
for the moon, and if you miss, you’ll land amongst the stars,” Matt said.
“A club bouncer.”
Rusty looked the part,
Ernie thought, with his soaring heights. He was handsome, too, a senior who
would get a certificate saying he participated in school. And that doesn’t matter when you’re six foot,
five inches, and muscular.
Mrs. Moth came in
and put her purse under her seat. She
had short black hair and blue eyes that shined like light. A porky woman, she ate her fried chicken and
drooled.
Ernie thought of drawing
her once, kind of a freak thing.
Amber, the final
member of the gang, came in last.
Amber never talked
to anyone. As a child, Ernie recalled, they diagnosed her as mentally retarded. No one knew why she held her tongue, a very
pretty girl. Lost. She surveyed the tiny classroom and its only
window in the back, getting spit on from the rain.
“Now that
everyone is here, please take out your packet work. We will work on it until
lunchtime.”
The group passed
around the bucket of crayons and pencils.
In the individualized packet, they pulled out their lessons, all that
they could, and quickly scribbled so that they could go back to talking. Mrs. Moth didn’t care. Ernie figured she knew where we would be in
five years and what we would do with our promising lives.
Ernie really
wanted the beer when it came to lunch hour.
Rusty, Matt, and he walked to the park in back of the school and passed
the fizzing gold around, eating their sandwiches and fruit.
“Do you think atoms
are useful?” Rusty asked Ernie. Apparently,
the soon to be thug, watched a program on TV about atoms.
“What is an atom?”
Matt asked.
“What stuff is
made of,” Rusty said.
“When my grandma
was in the hospital, she said the entire universe is made out of sugar water
created by elves,” Ernie said.
“It could be,” said
Matt.
“Aren’t we deep today?” Rusty laughed.
“Well, we could color
some more girls like they did in art books. Totally innocent,” Ernie said.
“Best tits win!”
Matt said.
“Yup. We’re
artists,” Ernie smiled as he set the beer down.
Kiss
Ah, Stars, spies of the night,
A honey trap of dueling eyes
Lust for the crescent smile…
Ascend into the heavens.
“Not lost,” they say, “found,”
Holding mixed lips of words.
Lessons of
Meaning
I live in a
different world than you. I know many people wouldn’t understand how this came
to be, and you know, I don’t know either. Isn’t that funny of things that are
different, what we do and know?
I once picked up a turtle walking toward the shade. My lesson tablet said that I should not
interfere with the turtle because he was not mine, and as an animal in place, I
would deny another being of prey his or her lunch or him of his muscle.
Many
lessons come onto my tablet as I roam about the day. The learning circle only taxed us as so much.
They fear that if they did more, we wouldn’t remember, or we would mix them
up. When scribbling letters became a
chore, we would stop seeing the shapes of reality. Abstraction littered the human mind.
In the old
days, humans ran wild and would break bones over words. They called their talents wars, all of them:
the war of a dancer, the war on food, the war on war itself. Their minds buzzed with activity. After a time, some became clearer but
couldn’t hold his ideas like they couldn’t handle the toxic drink they once
called alcohol.
So there it
is, less is more. The purer our thoughts
were, the safer we were, the better our world became. I’ve seen humans, the old type. They are on a
reserve where they live in groups called tribes. We allow them to plot, to
kill, to be back to the savage nature mother nature gave us, the viewpoint of
nature and lessons that they had.
They often
tried survival of the fittest, a comparison of course. In their eyes, blind as a rock, they tinted
the philosophy with themselves. The
world lost consciousness for many years before humans, our kind of humans, but we
developed lessons. We gave meaning to life and itself.
The other
humans hated our reason. To them, the
word “justice” meant to fight over words for some gain, often furtively.
My tablet lit
up as I approached the learning circle. No
eyes judged me. They read their tablets as the circle leader meditated with the
group, going to a higher consciousness to think.
“What is
late?” I sat down and folded my legs. I
thought for a moment. “Late” means after. It pertained to the end of an
event. I thought of relevance. Today, I
am late and past time. The tablet read my mind.
Like the others, I closed my eyes and began to ascend past the waking
world.
In front of
me, I witnessed colors spread out into shapes, into advanced letters and
numbers. I saw lessons, tasted them, and I felt the warmth of pure thought in
my mind.
The teacher
opened his eyes one me. I saw the deep,
dark brown, and I felt a heavenly flow of understanding.
The other
humans were unable to reach such a high state.
Love was tangled with lust. I
felt no lust for him, no yearning. The
desire to reproduce lay dormant within us.
Only the red moon could melt us together to create another life, to grow
another soul and consciousness.
The teacher
began to drive away, but he urged me to follow.
I slowly let him hold my existence until we made it to the other
humans.
I saw an
arrow fly through the air in a fight. One of the paler men fell to the ground
and screamed in agony at death. To us,
death was as natural as life, given to us so that our souls could create more
with knowledge and evolution, not stay in a state that would poison experience
and understanding.
I saw the
assailant smile as his brother bled to death.
I thought of the turtle and the meanings and lessons in this world. I
could not save them from another’s lesson.
They refused the tablets and meaning.
More people came to the clearing and cried over the death. They chased the guilty man and made him die
of the same fate. Arms held arms and
tears fell to the ground.
I watched
the soul release and fly into a cloud. The instructor pulled me back some.
I felt myself
speeding to the moment.
My tablet
flashed, “And what do you think his lessons in a cloud shall he learn? Do you
remember yourself?”
“He will
learn that even as he flies high above the realm of creatures, and he can watch
the world and see the nature of the planet but be unable to harm it,” I
responded.
The teacher left me and entered another student’s journey. I looked up to the clouds gliding, changing.
Soulless
You want to go to heaven?
Put your flame in another’s
Candle?
Lit twice and minds gone.
Wax falls like slow tears,
As the woman leaves.
Time licking love lost,
Even she will fall to dust.
Not a soul to save.
Sin
Sin is not allowed in rocks.
Sin is not allowed in water.
Sin is not allowed in clouds.
Only a mind is allowed to sin.
Only a mind can be ignorant.
